Hopefully that told him enough that he wouldn’t be surprised when he heard from someone referencing his current cases. And since she’d e-mailed him, he could technically reach out now, which would give him the upper hand in possibly claiming the lead role of investigating. She felt she owed him that much, as they had a friendship of sorts, but she didn’t want to give the appearance of favoring one agent over another.
Her cell phone beeped while she was contemplating why dealing with Agent Peters suddenly seemed more difficult than ever before. A quick glance showed a text from Anne, which she eagerly opened.
Just checking that you’re doing okay since this time of year is difficult for you. I’ve got a pint of cookie dough ice cream if you want to drop by.
Ellie smiled. Anne was never complicated. A lifelong friend, who understood everything was simpler if faced with enough sugar, gave them a solid basis for their friendship.
All’s well, thanks for checking in. Ellie knew Anne meant well, but she didn’t want to get into her comment about what this time of year represented. Fortunately, there were plenty of distractions in her office to keep her from dwelling on the calendar.
She’d been getting ready to leave for the day when a response from Agent Peters appeared in her inbox. She opened his note, expecting appreciation or a few details of how things stood after reaching out to D.C. Instead, his note had a tone she didn’t understand and too few words to attempt to read between.
Ellie, I’m buried right now in another more active case, so I’ll wait for the research team here to investigate the yoga retreat information I came up with, and I’ll see if D.C. reaches out in response to your warning that our cases could relate in some way. ~Bobby
She read his note three times to see if she’d missed something. His usual personal remarks were missing, and he seemed to be blowing her off. That was completely out of character for him, and if this was how he was going to begin treating her, then she had little interest in dropping everything to help him anymore. Rushing to conclusions about what was going on was always a bad idea, but at the moment, she felt put-off and angry. No, scratch that; she felt used and pissed off.
Looking at her watch, she saw she’d already stayed half an hour later than usual, so she packed up her office, including the case she’d accidently dumped on the floor, and then dropped off the potential dead case back in Phil’s inbox on her way out.
As she walked down the front steps of her office building to reach the parking lot, she found herself repeating the phrases that stood out in her mind. “A more active case,” and her “warning that our cases could relate in some way.”
Unable to hold back, she added her own response. “I didn’t say they could relate; I said they were definitely the same and coincidence wasn’t a possibility.”
“If you’re waiting for your car to answer, you’re going to be here a while,” came a deep and familiar voice from behind her.
“What do you want, Phillips?” Her question came out filled with the irritation she was feeling. When she turned and looked at her neighbor, she felt slightly guilty about taking out her frustration on him. The usual smirk or smile she was accustomed to seeing on his face was nowhere to be found.
“What’s doing, Ellie?” He was all business now. This was the field agent who took no prisoners and didn’t take no for an answer. “Somebody’s gotten you angry, and I know firsthand it takes a hell of a lot to do that. So don’t bother lying and telling me all’s well. Who made you mad?”
She didn’t want to answer. Her dad had taught her that when your emotions were involved, it was always better to keep your mouth shut and sort them out on your own. But as much as she loved and respected her dad, he'd ended up alone in life, so she wasn’t exactly sure this piece of advice needed to be heeded as strictly as some of the others.
Pressing the bottom of her palm to her forehead, wishing the pressure there could take away the slight throbbing, she took a deep breath. As she let it out, she decided that she had nothing to lose. If Phillips didn’t like learning that he was living across the hall from an emotional female, then he could move. After all, there was a saying about being careful what you asked for because you might just get it. Maybe she should prove to him how true that was.
“An agent asked for my help on a case, which I gave—like I always do. Then he called me after hours to run his plan of action past me, which I found odd, but I helped anyway. Today, I got a case to review that was about to be dead-filed. When I saw it, I realized it was directly connected to the two cases from Agent P—” She managed to stop herself before saying the name. She swallowed before continuing. “From the initial agent. So I did my full review and then sent the agent involved an e-mail, warning him he needed to coordinate with the other office because there was absolutely no way this was just a coincidence.”
She took a minute to be sure what she’d said factually represented what had happened.
While she was running through it, Phillips got impatient and prompted, “What did he do?”
“He sent me an e-mail telling me he was busy with an active case and that once his research team finished running down a previous lead, he’d see if it was helpful. Then he said he would wait to see if D.C. reached out to him before checking into my warning the cases could relate in some way.” Unable to hold back, she added, “He totally blew me off. He has no interest in working with another office, he’s given the leads I gave him to some research tech, and he’s not even willing to concede that the killer he’s after might have a bi-coastal reach. This is huge, and he’s acting like it’s no big deal.”
Phillips took a step closer. Few people would dare to walk toward an unstable animal, and that’s how Ellie was feeling. “So Bobby used you for your help, never bothered to credit or thank you for what you gave to him on a platter, and now that you're continuing to cover his ass, he’s blowing it off.”
“It feels that way, but he didn’t give me enough in his e-mail to know if that’s exactly true. Plus—” she stopped speaking, realizing Phillips had guessed who the agent was she was so put out with. “Wait, I never said Agent Peters was the person involved.”
“No, you didn’t,” Phillips admitted her point. “You didn’t have to.” He finished moving to her side and leaned against the passenger side door beside where she was standing. “Because every other agent I know is so relieved when you give them some help, they put it in a case log. I pulled up Bobby’s files in the system this morning, and they show all kinds of brilliant detective work, but no mention of anyone assisting him. I told you he was all about the glory. Word is, he’s up for a promotion, and something tells me he’s hoping this case will put him over the top as the only guy capable of getting the nod for the job. He needs to blow this case open and do so in a way that makes it look like he acted completely on his own in order to get all the accolades for it.”
“I’ve never asked for credit; I don’t want it,” she pointed out, almost feeling like it was some kind of mantra because of how often she said it.
“Fine. You don’t get noted as the source of all the ideas, but his reports read as though his brain is the manufacturer of all the connections. Ellie, I’ve met Bobby and worked with him. There’s no way he’s smart enough to pull off some of the stuff he’s saying he’s done on this case.”
Having gotten everything out in the open, she was beginning to calm down. It didn’t hurt that Phillips seemed to understand some of why she was angry and was definitely talking as though he was on her side. Now that she wasn’t seeing red anymore, she felt a little guilty for speaking so harshly and for eagerly listening to Phillips berate a co-worker that, up until the e-mail which had made her storm out of her office twenty minutes ago, she would have said she respected and even liked.
“I’m sure I’m overreacting. I’ve got way too many cases on my desk right now, and I’m probably stretched too thin, so it’s affecting me more than it should. This isn’t the only case he’s working on, and I’m
sure once he finishes whatever pressing investigation I caught him in the middle of, he’ll read again what I sent and see that he responded inappropriately. Most likely tomorrow, there’ll be an apology in my inbox, and then I’ll feel bad that I stood out in the parking lot talking about him.”
Phillips was looking at her like she’d grown a horn from her forehead. When she stopped to see what was causing his glare, he spoke, infusing as much sarcasm into each syllable as possible. “Riiiiight. I’m sure that’s it. Then he’ll go back and rewrite his field reports, and when asked how he caught the bad guy, he’ll explain that he had an impressive detail person that helped him a little. Of course that’s what will happen.”
When he put it like that, it did sound unlikely.
“While you’re waiting for this fantasy to happen, why don’t we run by Joe’s and get a coffee to go? Then we can go home, and I’ll give you the package that was dropped off this morning.”
“It could happen,” she pouted.
“Sure it could,” Phillips said, looking her straight in the eye. “It could, but it won’t. If you put your hopes there, you’re going to be disappointed. And as amusing as I found it to see you talking to your car in the parking lot, I’d rather people didn’t think of you as the crazy girl that works in the basement.”
“Why does it matter to you what people think of me?” She turned the comment back on him, accepting his attempt to lighten the mood.
“Personally, I couldn't care less.” He finally pulled out the grin he was usually sporting. “In fact, I might even agree with them... But it could scare off the women I might want to bring home on Saturday night, since most people know we’re neighbors.”
“All right.” She decided to let it go and take his joke as a way to put this whole episode behind her. “I’ll go, but only because I know you’ll try to weasel your way into my apartment for another dinner if you aren’t able to pick up somebody new on the weekend.”
“As if!” He laughed and began to walk over to his black pickup truck.
When he hoisted himself into the driver’s side of the SuperCab, his pants pulled tightly across his thigh, and the sight caught Ellie’s eye. She would have liked to have thrown out another witty reply, but there was nothing she could add. He was right. As much as she might want to argue against it, there was no chance he’d settle for dinner in her apartment on a Saturday night, because there was no way he wouldn’t be able to pick up a more-than-willing woman.
Phillips rolled down his window and stuck his head out to ask, “You coming to Joe’s? The coffee can be on me.”
She considered it, knowing whatever she had to drink would be delicious, but her head quickly rationalized that she didn’t want to deal with the potential for awkwardness of seeing the man she’d had such a great evening with beside her co-worker, who was more than eager to see them together.
“No, not tonight,” she told him, moving to get in her own little car. “I’ll go by again, but I just want to head home now.”
He looked at her, doing that unnerving assessing thing he did when he narrowed his eyes. Finally, he nodded, accepting that she didn’t want to go, and even if she wasn’t sharing it with him, her reasons were valid anyway. “I’ll tell him you said hello,” he blurted out before driving away and taking any chance she might have to disagree.
Her mind was swimming with the conversation with Phillips, the e-mail from Agent Peters, and the chat with Phil about field work. As weird as it sounded, what she needed was a good mystery to get lost in. Strange, since she had three perfectly-puzzling mind benders right there, but they weren’t the kind she could get anywhere with overnight.
As she made her way toward home, she began to relax. Leaving the confusion of the day behind might not be as difficult as she’d thought. There was a package she hadn’t opened and another that Phillips would deliver soon. Surely between the two boxes, there would be something there worth digging into.
In the back of her mind, a little voice seemed to be taunting her to be careful what she asked for; she just might get it.
Chapter Five
The outside of the box gave nothing away. The return address belonged to a part of Virginia she was unfamiliar with, and there was no name for a reference. Ellie laughed when she caught herself placing an ear to the package. What did you expect to hear? Ticking?
She pulled out the Swiss Army knife her father gave her for graduation and sliced the tape securing the top. More than once, her father had lectured her that a dull knife was a dangerous knife, so she worked to keep the blade razor sharp, and it made quick work of the bindings. She lifted the flaps to peer inside.
Wrinkles broke out on her forehead as she realized that even after opening the package, she was still uncertain as to what it was or why it had been sent to her. On the top was a legal-sized manila envelope, which she picked up in the hope of it containing some clue about the large amount of paper filling the rest of the box.
Inside the envelope was a paid receipt dated five years earlier that appeared to belong to a storage company. Paperclipped to the receipt was a handwritten note on a letterhead from the storage unit that had received the funds documented on the proof of payment.
Ms. Michaels, enclosed, you will find the contents of storage unit 210, leased by Mr. Elliot Michaels five years ago. At the time he rented the space with our company, he asked that should the lease run out, the contents of the unit be sent to you. We were uncertain if the address we had on file was still current, but are using it in good faith that the items will either be forwarded to you or returned to us. We can offer no explanation about the reason for his request, only that we have followed his directions explicitly, as he made it abundantly clear that it was crucial we do so.
At the bottom was a name and phone number in case there were any questions. They were probably expecting a call, but it was unlikely they would be able to add any more than their sparse letter had already detailed. Ellie sighed, recognizing that she’d asked for a mystery that she could lose herself in, and it appeared her father had come through for her once again.
Looking at the date on the receipt, Ellie realized, if she’d done her math right, it was exactly five years and four weeks before her father’s death. Which meant it was paid six weeks and four days before she went into the field for the last time.
Shaking her head from that thought, Ellie pulled out the contents of the package and found eight files, neatly organized and containing enough photos, interviews, activity logs, and man hours that she wondered why the ultimate outcome of the case was not also included. It seemed such a waste if these were all dead files that had never been solved.
Elliot Michaels was a legend in the FBI. He’d been the kind of agent boys wanted to be when they grew up. He’d never shown fear, and had instincts that kept him out of trouble and usually one step ahead of the criminals, allowing him to have solved even the toughest cases. If this box turned out to contain the ones he’d never figured out, then it would be the first time she’d ever heard of the great Elliot Michaels having so many files that were not closed.
Ellie’s parents met when he was a fresh field agent, and after a brief, but apparently intense courtship, they were married. Exactly twelve months later, their only child was born. Janice stayed home, the model mother doting over the daughter she hoped to turn into a miniature version of herself, and Elliot continued to make the world a better place, especially since he had a child growing up in it.
From the outside, one would assume they were the perfect family, and in many respects, they were in the beginning. But after five years, Janice began to resent the amount of time the FBI seemed to demand of Elliot. It had been her hope that after he was established as an agent, he could work fewer hours and certainly bring less work home with him. The more she pleaded and then demanded he spend more time at home, the less time Elliot devoted to his family. Despite divorce becoming more and more the norm in the eighties, Janice had a reputation to uphold, so she
refused to give up, holding onto the fool’s hope that if she just complained enough, her husband would eventually give in to her demands.
When Ellie turned eight, her father moved out and took a small one-bedroom apartment two blocks from his office. He and Janice didn’t divorce, but they realized that living together wasn’t working for them anymore either and decided pretending wasn’t helpful. No longer united under one roof, they were able to maintain a type of friendship that seemed to work for them. Despite it looking odd to everyone else, it was the best possible solution for the Michaels family. Especially since Ellie seemed to be more in tune with what was going on around her than most girls her age. She noticed the lack of conversation at the dinner table, the rolled eyes her mother displayed whenever Elliot’s work pager would go off, and the lack of any sort of physical contact between her parents. Once she began having sleepovers at her friends’ houses, the differences between those families and her own were apparent.
After her father left home, Ellie found herself living the split-family model. Her mother saw to her needs during the week, and she stayed with her dad most weekends. This allowed her mother to develop a social life of some sort and renew her membership and influence at the club, and her dad could work all the hours he wanted to during the week and devote himself to the daughter he adored on the weekend.
As the years passed by, Ellie found herself trying to please her mother just to keep from having to endure another lecture about the role of women and how she needed to learn to keep her future husband happy. But she secretly looked forward to the weekends, when she could be herself, with the confidence of knowing her dad would be happy with her no matter what she decided to do. He always gave her options and let her guide how they spent their time, but ultimately, she found herself shadowing him and loving every minute they had together. He taught her everything he felt she needed to know to be successful in whatever she wanted to do, but mostly, he tried to teach her that only she could decide what would make her happy, and nobody else had the right to try to force her into a life she didn’t want—not even her mother.
A Killer Cup of Joe Page 6